


How to Tame a Slow Cooker

by Kimmy



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Cooking, F/M, Gift Fic, Little Shits In Love, Moneypants, Q Is Awful At Life, Romance, Romantic Gestures, We Need More Moneypants
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-24
Updated: 2016-04-24
Packaged: 2018-06-04 06:50:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6646228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimmy/pseuds/Kimmy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Months of planning and now Q has no idea if the bloody thing won't ruin it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Tame a Slow Cooker

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Raychini](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Raychini/gifts).



> For you darling Rachel, because we all need more Eve/Q in our lives.

It wasn't that long of a journey from strangers to friends to relationship. And while the friendship just clicked, it certainly wasn't for Q that they didn't stay at that for a decade or longer. He was awful at this people things.

Thank goodness, Eve was brilliant at them and it wasn't long before she learned to speak Q and read Q almost accurately. And maybe taken a leap of faith.

Because if anything, Eve was brave.

And now here they were, living together, sleeping in same bed, doing... things in the same bed.

"God, Q, one would think you wouldn't be such a blushing virgin in private!"

"Oh, shut up, you know you love me."

And oh she did, she thought as she couldn't help but laugh, because yes, his face could get any more red.

And now Q had somehow convinced James, Bill and Mallory to feign some apocalypse to keep Eve in office till the evening so Q had time to prepare things.

He spent weeks searching, planning, preparing, calculating.

And now here he was - in their kitchen, having a staring contest with a slow cooker.

How intelligent.

Apparently, the oh so brilliant idea of ordering it from Aliexpress wasn't that brilliant. Because Chinese sites send manuals in Chinese. How strange. How inconvenient.

Well, Google it is.

According to Google, Q made a right choice in one thing at least. The slow cooker was a manual one, so there would be no need to deal with chinese squiggles in the menu. Just low or high heat marked wit ha "-" and "+". That Q could deal with.

Armed with a Bond-resistant tablet (tomatoes may be involved, so better safe than sorry), Q stood to the battle, and after what was admittedly the longest 6 hours (and the biggest amount of (not) fixed gadgets) he lifted the lid and took the fork to try the risotto.

It was life or death. Victory or loss.

It was a matter of utmost importance, as Q definitely didn’t have time to make another one, because Eve would be home in about twenty minutes. 

Now or never.

And… VICTORY.

It was brilliant, amazing, absolutely delicious. It was heavenly and most probably very average but Q made it HIMSELF. Eve would love it.

He did a quick work of making the table, dressed up, smartly, but not too much seeing as they were staying in their own kitchen, found the candles and some fancy holder and lit them up in the middle, finishing the ambience creating with fading the ceiling lamp considerably. It looked good. 

Homey, but fancy.

Cosy, but elegant.

So Q, but so Eve.

And then the doorbell rang. Q rushed to open Eve (he made sure her keys disappeared from her purse mysteriously) and let her in with a bow. 

There was a questioning smile tugging at her lips, happy confusion in her eyes as she allowed herself to be handled, relieved of her purse and coat, and pecked on the lips with a small “Hello” full of mischief exchanged.

“Alright, you’re too cheerful and prepared and the tasks Mallory was giving me were downright ridiculous. You’re plotting something.”

And it was worth it, for Q blushes a beautiful red and saying nothing, just led her to the kitchen. ...Where a beautiful dinner for two was waiting.

Eve didn’t squeal a bit. She just didn’t.

(Yes, she did, but wasn’t that so sweet and romantic?)

“Oh God, thank you, I love this so much. I love you.”

She kissed him gently, but passionately, and they stayed like that for a good while, looking at each other, lost and enamoured like bloody teenagers before awkwardly shaking themselves out of this trance and sitting themselves at the table.

Eve loves the risotto.

Q fails at not looking smug.

And they’ve eaten, and snogged and somehow ended up in the living room, on the sofa, though Q has no idea how, and he almost forgets, lost in the world of Eveeveeveeveeveeve, but bloody hell, he spent months fretting, it’s enough.

So he untangles himself from her and takes a deep breath and trying not to panic he gets on one knee and promptly forgets the speech he’s been writing for three months now, so  _ fuck it all.  _ He’s been waiting long enough. 

“Eve, my sunshine, my moonlight, my everything… Eve, will you marry me?”

Her mouth is agape, and she stares at him as if she can’t believe it and Q starts to sweat and  _ oh no, she doesn’t want commitment, I fucked it up  _ and then suddenly he finds himself with an armful of Eve and it takes him a while to register it’s “Yes” she keeps murmuring against his hair.

(The ring shines bright on her finger as end up making out on the sofa.)

**Author's Note:**

> Of course a proposal, what else? You know me!
> 
> [And yes, of course Q could make a risotto in twenty minutes had that one failed and of course he could have made it with a normal pot, but Q sucks at normal life and translates everything into gadgets and is adorably helpless.]


End file.
